


Illusions of ...

by PitaVegeta1



Series: If it's broke FIX-IT!!! [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitaVegeta1/pseuds/PitaVegeta1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it had been a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusions of ...

**Author's Note:**

> Another fix-it, no season 5 or 6 though there are some elements from those seasons.
> 
> None of the characters are mine.

A dream, a very bad dream; Mickey shivered beneath the sheets still feeling the biting cold of winter air. His chest heavy as he worked to catch his breath. He felt as if he had run a marathon; rubbing his eyes he shifted to the sit at the side of the bed leaving the warmth that still slumbered.

It was summer so the house was warm, but Mickey still felt chilled. Far from the Milkovich house the rapid succesion of gunfire and sirens started, it sounded so close that Mickey flinched. He pulled a bottle of Jack from the top shelf and made his way into the darken living room.

The silence seemed so loud, the house usually trembling beneath his feet, ears ringing from the other occupants . Staring blankly at the blinds, Mickey let his mind wander to the dream it brought back old memories. It was a few years ago when the good could almost outway the bad. With his father locked away; he, Ian, Svetlana, Yev and Mandy essentially a family in the Milkovich house. Mickey had felt happy for a moment but ofcourse life had to fuck him. Ian's depression and diagnosis, the craziness that ensued with the red head's denial; all of it had left Mickey wanting to throw in the towel.

The dream still hung at the edges of his concisounes, persistent. The day cold, the feeling of elation from a long awaited call. His boots pounding dirty pavement, the steps of the Gallagher house. The feeling of fear, real fear as Ian stood before him so tired, so broken, so done.

Who knew a broken heart could cause so much physical pain. Then bullets whizzings so close they stung, bat-shit crazy loaded up for the kill. He was running again this time away. When he looked back Ian was gone.

"Mick?"

Mickey startled so caught up he hadn't heared the taller man. Ian stood sleep rumbled, outlined by the yellow streetlight filtering through the blinds.

"What are you doing" Ian asked moving closer, eyeing the bottle of Jack in Mickey's hand. Mickey followed the other man's gaze, the bottle held in lose fingers, full and forgotten; amber liquid black like oil at 5 o'clock in the morning. Ian sat down beside the brunette, taking the bottle and sitting it on the table.

Mickey sighed, " Had a nightmare."

"What about?" Once again silence as Ian waited for Mickey to answer, he twined their hands together, green eyes patience.

"Would you... with Caleb?" The question was so out of the blue that it startled a laugh from the red head, but he quickly sobered noticing how serious Mickey was. He and Caleb were friends, the dark-skinned man had been the first to welcome him at the station house when Ian had started there a few years ago. Turning fully, Ian kissed tattooed fingers, he missed the vulgar message that once crudely marked the pale digits; but now a different set of letters spelled out Mickey's most beautiful attribute.

"No Mick, he's not my type." the brunette nodded, but Ian could see the doubt.

"He's too nice, too... he's not you. I love you, have since I watched you get buckshot pulled from your ass."

Mickey chuckled, licking his lips, "Since then, huh." Ian gave into his urge to kiss the plump lips before him, smirking back.

''Yeah, watching the guy your fucking curse and bleed on your kitchen counter sets a lot of things in motion." Once again silence penetrated the room, the house brightening as dawn peeked through the windows.

"I knew when you left." Mickey thought back to that day, another cold one; winter forever an unforgiving bitch. Pulling the slighter man closer, nuzzling at a stubbled cheek Ian looked into to blue eyes.

"You know I will never leave you again." long fingers caressed the silver band glinting on Mickey's finger.

"This says so." The brunette surged forward, hands entangling into red hair, lips crashing together, Ian collapsed into the embrace taking control, reclining his husband down into the cushions. The fever at which they moved, so captivated by each other they did not noticed their audience.

"You have room for that." the heavy accent pulled them apart; Svetlana glaring at them from behind the couch. Mickey glared back,

"This is my house, if you don't like it get the hell out." he growled, he reluctantly let the taller man slip from his grasp. Ian rolled his eyes as the two began bickering at eachother, Russian curses trailing behind the woman as she went into the kitchen.

"Oh what was your dream about?" Ian asked. Mickey shrugged, giving Ian a peck as he got up,

"Nothing important." he stated making his way back to the bedroom. Ian frowned, curious but he shook off the feeling, stretching up from the couch he followed his husband; hoping to promote good dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Same tattoo used in my "Declarations in Flesh" fic - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljlc5oVNBX1qdfhgio1_400.jpg


End file.
